Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Conspiracy

Given the sporadic and seemingly random nature of my training in the last few weeks, one might think I am slipping a bit in the commitment department. In my defense, I must suggest here that the best-laid plans sometimes go astray, and sometimes they are not so much best-laid as they are quasi-formed approximations of things I should do that end up derailed by any number of things, to wit:

The Bed. We have a very comfortable bed I enjoy spending my nighttime hours in a lot. High thread-count sheets are the one household item of which I tend to indulge, and along with the big fluffy comforter and all my squishy pillows it's like the absolutely perfect storm of sleeping. Thus, when the alarm goes off at approximately stupid-o'clock in the morning I am not generally prepared or even vaguely willing to spring right up and into action either at the gym or around the neighborhood.

The Clock Radio. Speaking of alarms - and please understand that I am not a violent person, really! - but I honestly would like to find whoever it was that invented that seemingly innocuous little device known as the "snooze alarm" and whack him or her upside the head with a very large and heavy item, such as a brick or an Oldsmobile. Between this truly devil-inspired invention of modern man combined with my first point mentioned above, it's pretty much impossible to get up when I really need to. I believe my all-time record of hitting the snooze button before finally hauling my sorry butt out of bed to avoid losing my job was about an hour and twenty minutes. This, of course, left no time for running that morning and also totally eclipsed the possibility of going for a run after work since I had to stay late to make up time.

The Soothing Sounds of My Brilliant Self-Rationalization. The degree and variation of this particular deterrent knows no real limit, when you think about it:
  • No clean workout clothes.
  • Too cold.
  • Too hot.
  • Too windy.
  • We are totally out of bagels, and the entire universe knows I can't run without carbo-loading on bagels!
  • Too dark.
  • Too tired.
  • Treadmills are of the devil!
  • I'm still sore from the last workout.
  • It's raining.
  • It's snowing.
  • It's hailing.
  • There's not enough shade in my neighborhood.
  • Treadmills really suck!
  • I might get mugged or chased by a pack of wild hyenas.
  • I don't have anyone to run with me.
  • Not enough time.
  • I just ate.
  • I haven't eaten since....
  • I'll just go for a run after work.
  • I'll just go for a run during lunch.
  • I'll just take a couple brisk walks around the building during my breaks.
  • Did I mention yet that treadmills were invented by satan???
  • I don't have a race coming up for a few weeks; I'll just run a couple miles extra tomorrow.
  • I read a report yesterday in the checkout aisle that said running causes nose cancer.
  • I'm doing this why???
I suppose it might be worth mentioning that I'm staring down the barrel of another 15K this coming Sunday. So during this possibly ill-advised race, when I get to about mile 7 and am busy cursing up a blue streak in my head about how stupid running is and how everything hurts and how the only way I will finish is to be drug across the line by some kind, sympathetic soul, I'll think back on this little list of excuses and vow never again to fall victim to their wiles.

That is, at least until the following week.

I mean, it is a huge conspiracy, right.....?

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